


Tension and Release

by levelofdepth



Series: Origin Stories [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21994549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levelofdepth/pseuds/levelofdepth
Summary: Barsen'thor struggles before she succeeds. TW for mild abuse.
Series: Origin Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583257





	Tension and Release

**Author's Note:**

> These origin stories go in chronological order, so the first one posted is also the first to happen in-universe.
> 
> Thank you to https://haospart.tumblr.com/ for drawing my OCs!

Beyond the reach of the violent war tearing through known space, at the fringe of the galaxy, a small portion of the Jedi Order, along with a few ambitious Republic senators, venture out to the remote planet of Alpheridies. The planet is ripe and bountiful, making it a coveted tool for the scheming politicians of the Republic, thought not for its resources, but for its people; the Miraluka were forced off their original homeworld after an environmental disaster left the atmosphere nullified and the planet uninhabitable. Many were scattered across the galaxy, both civilized or otherwise, but a notable amount settled alongside the natives of Alpheridies, making it their home as well. The Miraluka fascinated their Alpheridian neighbors just as much as the rest of the known galaxy; they are likely the strongest Force sensitive race to ever exist since the ancient Rakata.

The Miraluka were forced to adopt to the oppressive darkness of their homeworld; what were once genetically humans evolved into something much more. Their eyes became vestigial, unable to navigate through the infinite blackness surrounding them constantly. Eventually, their eyes disappeared entirely, leaving only sockets— only a few, rare Miraluka retained their eyes, and all eventually were blind. The longest time a Miraluka recorded maintaining their ability to physically see was only a few seconds, and it was incredibly painful for them. So, the Miraluka adopted a new way to “see”, which is what made them so incredible.

The Miraluka see with the Force.

The terrible images one can conjure when taunted by the darkside terrified the Miraluka, resembling more of a waking nightmare than the power Sith siphon from these visions. Thus, the Miraluka’s natural affinity for the light side of the Force made them excellent allies for the Jedi, and in extension the Republic.

In response to the Miraluka taking center stage of the galactic theater, an elite special forces team of the Republic troopers are sent to accompany the multitude of Jedi located on Alpheridies, who work to construct a new Jedi temple in an attempt to recruit Miraluka for the Order (and build political ties with the influential race, as well). The Republic sends one of their best troopers to oversee the special forces squad: the (infamously stringent) Captain Cornelius Magnimi. The Miraluka are contemplative and polite— a perfect fit for the Order, but they don’t mix well with the sharp edges of the Republic military. One Miralukan woman bridges the gap with the captain himself; they become close, spending an increasing amount of time together. The woman knows it’s a dangerous thing, falling in love with a soldier, but she is young— she cannot stop herself from chasing danger. The captain on the other hand, finds himself ensnared by the beauty and mystique of the Miraluka, drawing in by stories of her exotic race. The serene demeanor in which she carries herself, and the sweet melody she speaks in lulls the typically tight-knit soldier like a siren’s charming call. She openly dreams of starting a family with him, and he cannot deny her.

She gives him a daughter when he wanted a son. Still, he is intent on training their child to be a better soldier than even he. And just like her father, Ashlann Magnimi dutifully obeys her given commands— even at the cost of her freedom.

* * *

Her body screams in pain even though she remains quiet. Her father seems to push her harder by the day during their combat training sessions, never truly satisfied by any of the previous results. But, the ache in her bones pales in comparison to the aching curiosity residing in her mind like an unquenched thirst; she desires knowledge, not hand-to-hand training with her father. He is much bigger than the blossoming adolescent, standing at a terrifying six foot three and weighing in at just over 250 pounds. Ashlann is tall for a nine year old, and well built for one, too,— weeks of rigorous conditioning with her father has kept her fit— but she can’t compare to her father’s massive figure. Still, anyone would be able to tell from a glance who Ashlann’s mother and father are. She has her father’s stony, intense features and her mother’s flowing brown locks. What she has that her parents could not have given to her is her incredible strength in the Force. Some Jedi at the nearby academy even envy her, though Ashlann finds it ironic that she lectures them on controlling their jealousy, sometimes. The masters find it delightful, and always welcome young Ashlann to participate in their studies,— much to the young girl’s joy— but she is unable to become a full fledged padawan; her father does not permit it. He wants her to be a soldier, steadfast and stoic, just like he is. Ashlann enjoys her time with the masters at the temple, but understands that her father’s word is law; if he demands she become a soldier of the Republic, then it shall be so. Besides, if becoming a Republic trooper makes her into a hero like her father is, she is more than happy to follow in his footsteps and support the innocent civilians under their protection.

She feels her lean body hit the mat, harder than before this time, as her father throws her to the ground. She bites back a hiss as she lands awkwardly on her shoulder. Her father doesn’t notice, or he just doesn’t care.

“Get up,” he orders. She inhales, steeling herself before she rises for another bout. She knows she must endure the trials he puts forth if she wants to make him proud.

She stands tall, calling on the Force to mend her bruises and alleviate a bit of her pain.

* * *

When the worst of it is finally over, Ashlann heads home from the Republic base set up off to the side of her village. The Miraluka live in small, quiet farming villages— their lives are quaint to the rest of the galaxy. The recent addition of Republic soldiers and Jedi likely shake the world of the reclusive (but not unkind) Miraluka. While many of their kind do not live in the lap of luxury (their connection is with the Force, not credits) few are as impoverished as Ashlann and her mother, who can barely make ends meet for herself and her daughter. Ashlann is grateful for her father’s much needed support; she understands that it is hard to be a soldier and a father at the same time, and the fact that he manages so effortlessly amazes her.

As she strolls through the lush fields of her homeworld, inhaling the sweet scents of the native flora, she feels her mind wander away from the pain and anxieties of reality. She recalls the moments spent with the Jedi at the temple, and their teachings of peace and balance within the Force. But as a cool breeze kisses her skin lightly, all she feels is restlessness. She knows that when she returns home, her mother will ask much of her (she wonders if it is too much), and her father will find her doing house chores later; he will frown scornfully at the sight, as he always does. She should be practicing her moves or work on her conditioning, not tending to the farm or tidying the house. She wants to make them both proud, but sometimes she feels like she’s spreading herself as thin as the blades of grass tickling her toned legs. Sometimes, she finds herself wishing she could simply become one.

Usually, she just wishes she could meditate with the Jedi, though.

When she reaches the front door to their humble lodgings, she hesitates momentarily. She moves to open the door, but her mother, energetic as ever, beats her to it.

“Ashlann! I’m so glad you’re home, sweetheart,” she chirps sincerely. Despite herself, Ashlan can’t help but grin. Her mother’s cheerfulness is contagious; it thawed her father’s heart once, after all. “Will you help me around the house? I have a job to do in the village. I promised Ms. Laza’ren— you remember her, right? You might not. She used to watch over you when you were a baby. You were so adorable then!” Ashlann shifts uncomfortably at her mother’s praise. She should be used to her enthusiastic adoration by now, but she’s never liked being praised much (except possibly by her father). “Anyways,” her mother continues. “I promised to help Ms. Laza’ren clean out her old house today. You know her family is building a new one? Much bigger and nicer she says.” Her mother sighs wistfully at this, for a moment looking far older before her features snap back to their previously jovial state. It almost alarms Ashlann how quickly she cycles through emotions. “She also said I could keep a few items and credits for myself for my assistance. It seemed like an offer I couldn’t resist, so that’s why I need you to pick up around. I know I can rely on you, Ashlann.”

Her first reaction is, in fact, to say no; she wants to rest. She wants to sit in her room and lick her numerous wounds. She wants to study ancient texts in the expansive rows of the Jedi temple library— she’s halfway through a codex on the history of the famous Forge of the Order. She doubts she will ever get a chance to see it in person during her lifetime.

But she holds no animosity for her parents or the situation they are in. As she levitates a vibroblade toward her, she accepts her fate and vows to perform her given tasks to the fullest, no matter how mundane. She hears her mother call out a thank you as she rushes out the door.

Hours later, as the sun begins its descent, Ashlann finds herself set free; her mother returns home earlier than expected, fortuitous, telling her she no longer requires any assistance around the house, elaborating that she can handle the rest herself. Ashlann always double checks before leaving; sometimes her mother does need more help, but she hides it so as to not burden her daughter further. Ashlann admires her mother’s endless compassion, but never wants it to be at her own expense.

Ashlann exits the house, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click. This time as she crosses the dry plains she feels light; no longer does she yearn to become the grass underneath her feet— she is part of it. She feels connected to everything around her; the mangled roots of the looming trees swaying in the wind act as capillaries for the Force, grounding her.

As she approaches her destination, she senses a quiet buzz amidst the structure; the constant coming and going of Republic troops occasionally breaks the aura of tranquility enveloping the newly constructed temple, though the padawans do an excellent job of keeping the calm (underneath the guiding hand of their masters). Ashlann is careful to remove her heavy work boots before entering; though the activities of the attending students often end in dirt being rracking into the temple, she doesn’t wish to defile the building further, lest she face the wrath of Master Amal, the stern but understanding headmaster of the academy. As she treks through the wide halls, she takes time to appreciate the artistry built into every bit of the foundation. The tale of the Miraluka is painted into the sturdy walls, a perfect demonstration of the connection between the race and the Order. Every time she passes the tapestry, pride surges through her; she hopes during her own lifetime she is as resilient as her people have been throughout history.

The rise and fall of entire civilizations throughout the history of the galaxy have always fascinated Ashlann as well as the intricacies of said societies: technology, language, political structure, and of course, culture. Passing by the twin statues carved into pillars decorating the entrance of the library, Ashlann already feels herself being pulled by the vast amount of knowledge offered up to her. She nods at a cluster of padawans sitting together in a circle off to the side, then continues walking swiftly toward the history aisle; though she cannot become a full fledged Jedi, she can still engross herself in the philosophy offered by them.

Today, she continues her study of the life of the infamous Force user Revan and his legacy— including the Shan lineage. Revan has always been a divisive topic within the Order due to his actions and what they stand for. As a fallen Jedi, Revan had brought an entire civilization to its knees, pushing the galaxy to its brink under his pressure. After being betrayed by his companion, Darth Malak, also a fallen Jedi disciple, Revan was restored to the light side, redeeming himself by eliminating the threat Malak had posed and campaigning against the sinister Sith emperor. But the one demonstration of Revan’s that truly astounded Ashlann was that of his versatility; so many masters warn their padawans against the dangers of passion— it always leads to the dark side, they preach. Yet, without love, the wise Satele Shan would have never been born from Revan and his lover, Bastila Shan. She would have never become Jedi master and council member, and the Order would sorely miss such a vital asset. Ashlann wonders if it was Revan’s acceptance of love and understanding of both the dark and light side that brought him so much power and control over the force. She wonders if, conversely, it was the very reason why he fell to the Sith. However, she is confident that Revan was selfish, even when he returned to the Jedi; after all, a Jedi should show more restraint. If there was ever a chance that she could fall to the dark side, she would endure it, not succumb to it, no matter how tempting or painful the trials may be.

As Ashlann interacts with the Holocaust absorbing every bit of riveting information on Revan or the Shans available, she can’t help but overhear a conversation going on between the group of padawans she saw before and a newly arrived Jedi. She recognizes the voice as Master Amal’s. Despite her stringent attitude, evident even in her tone, Ashlann still holds a great amount of respect for the Master for offering her the opportunity to roam the halls of the temple despite not being an official member of the Order. Her reasoning was that “anyone who seeks knowledge out likely deserves it” but Ashlann sees it for what it truly is; a subversion of her father’s rules against joining the Order. She suspects her warm welcome into the temple also has something to do with the extraordinary caliber of her strength in the Force. Because of this, she’s heard whispers among the Jedi about her, both good and bad, but she ignores them all fervently, lest they get to her head.

Master Amal begins speaking in her usual curt manner, “Who can recite the entirety of the Jedi Code for me?” A few groans are let out in response to this. The constant recital of the Code can quickly become repetitive for the young students. Ashlann can easily imagine the number of eye rolls Master Amal receives. After a beat and no response to the Jedi’s question, Ashlann decides to reveal herself and step in.

“Master, may I interject?” she asks, moving out from the narrow row of holobooks she stood in to be able to see the Jedi. All eyes are on her now, and some seem more frustrated with her intrusion than others. She tries not to let the scowls she receives affect her.

“Of course you may, Ashlann. Maybe you can illuminate the Code for us, since it seems many of my students cannot speak today.” One or two kids release a snicker at Master Amal’s sarcastic remark, but most seem unamused; Ashlann can sense their tension through the Force, though she keeps this to herself and presses forward, reciting the Code by heart.

“There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity…” she pauses on this, her voice trailing off as she does. So many masters hammer the Code into the malleable minds of their padawans, but do they ever have them analyze it, she wonders.

“Continue, please,” Master Amal suspends Ashlann’s thoughts, and she obeys.

“There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.”

“Well done, Ashlann,” she remarks, turning back towards the other adolescents.

One padawan mutters (quite loudly), “Leave some for us real Jedi.” Master Amal does nothing but raise an eyebrow disapprovingly at this. She recognizes that anything she does will only exacerbate the problem. Ashlann elects to ignore the building tension against her as well, this time less successfully; she feels a sting within her. Not only is she an outcast to her fellow peers, but she is an outcast to the very Order she worships, as she is painfully reminded; she is not a Jedi, and she never will.

“You remembered the Code well, Ashlann, but I wonder why you hesitated part of the way through it,” Master Amal notes.

Ashlann, prepared for the unspoken (but implied) question, returns with her own.

“Can one note find serenity in their passions? Is love not the embodiment of everything good in this galaxy?”

“A challenging question as always, Ashlann,” Master Amal responds, her curiosity obviously having been piqued. “And while love is an example of good, it is not always a pinnacle of serenity. Besides, a Jedi must remain neutral; love opens up the possibility for bias. Ultimately, love and passion poses too great of a risk for an individual Jedi. This is why we warn those in the Order against it.” Ashlann deflates, disappointed with the open-and-closed nature of her response. She isn’t even given a chance to continue their discussion as Master Amal begins speaking again, “Ashlann brings up an important topic, though. I’m sending an excerpt to your datapads regarding how to find serenity through meditation. Please read them and practice meditating properly on your own. You are all dismissed, for now.” The padawans eagerly shuffle off, laughing and talking among each other, leaving Ashlann awkwardly standing beside Master Amal. She makes out to leave, but the Master grabs her arm before she moves very far.

“I wasn’t being entirely open with you when I said what I did, so I apologize, Ashlann.”

Ashlann turns fully, confused. “What do you mean?” she asks.

“Some Jedi have been allowed to pursue romantic relationships in the past, sometimes even with each other.” This shocks Ashlann. “These Jedi were deemed strong enough to avoid corruption, although they were still under a great deal of surveillance. Most of these select members of the Order end up leaving, though.” Ashlann considers this; Jedi are in fact permitted to pursue relationships, under special circumstances, and with certain restrictions. Still, she ponders on the validity of these examples— they did leave the Order, after all.

Ashlann realizes she has been thinking in silence for some time, and hastily says to Master Amal, “Forgive me, Master. I have much to meditate over on my own, obviously. Thank you for telling me these things.

“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge,” she repeats back to Ashlann. “Go. Explore what you have learned,” she commands lightly. “We can further discuss this the next time you visit, Ashlann.” Ashlann bows deeply, offers a quick goodbye, and begins to navigate her way out of the temple, back home once more.

This time when she returns home, she is greeted by the commanding rumble that is her father’s voice rather than the soft melody of her mother’s.

“It might be a bit odd being stationed here, being so far away from Coruscant, but it has its benefits.”

“Like what?” inquires a new voice, soft, but still very clearly masculine. Ashlann concludes it’s one of her father’s squadmates— sometimes they come over for dinner after the day’s work. Usually, her mother is more than happy to serve, or seems to be.

“The women aren’t so bad looking,” a third man quips. Ashlann has to keep her face from scrunching up in mild disgust. She walks into the dining room to see him nudging her father’s arm jokingly. Her father only looks slightly amused. He seems to perk up more when he notices Ashlann’s presence.

“You’re right,” her father begins. “If I hadn’t met my beautiful wife, I would’ve never been given my incredible daughter.”

The other two men spot her after, one giving her a boisterous “Hey, how’s it going!” and the other a quieter “How are you, Ashlann?” Aslann responds with an equally quiet greeting of her own, and moves to make herself scarce, but her father decides to address her again.

“Where were you exactly, young lady?” he questions suspiciously, leaning back a bit in the (much too small) chair he rests in. For a moment, Ashlann thinks it will break underneath his weight.

“I was conducting a few personal studies at the temple, sir,” she says respectfully, standing rigidly in front of the table the three men have made themselves at home by.

The more opinionated soldier scoffs loudly, making no attempt at hiding his disgust.

“Those damned Jedi type don’t do a kriffing thing to help. They spend so long pontificating on light side this and dark side that, that they never pink a kriffing side!” Ashlann frowns deeply at this.

The second man, clearly a voice of reason for the first that spoke, chimes in. “While the Jedi do remain… frustratingly neutral, you can’t deny the extreme value of their support.” Her frown lessens, but the damage is done. Finally, her father decides to inject himself into the conversation.

“True, the Jedi make good allies. But they aren’t very reliable ones. Nothing bothers me more than working with a Jedi that refuses to take out a threat permanently, but ends up getting the all thanks regardless. It’s the real soldiers that make those tough decisions to save lives, not them. And yet her we are, stationed to help them build a temple.”

Ashlann can hold back no longer.

“The temple allows for thorough research and rigorous study regarding the Force. It’s a place of academia, but also peace as well. They take the sickly and hurting in and heal them in ways one cannot see with their eyes,” she motions at her mask. “They took me in…” her voice trails off, blushing as she realizes how passionate she has gotten.

“But will they still take you in as a soldier, after you’ve killed?” her father presses. She feels the weight of three pairs of eyes set upon her. She stands up taller, more resolute.

“Always.” She feels a staggering amount of conviction in her bones, hears it in her voice. She still does not waver. The room is silent in their anticipation for her father’s response. Suddenly, he breaks the frigid aura with a loud laugh that likely reverberates across the entire house. As he tosses his head back and shakes jovially, everyone in the vicinity relaxes noticeably. Even the typically stoic and expressionless Ashlann cracks a small bemused smile, though she’s not sure what’s so amusing.

“That’s my girl!” he says between fading chuckles. Ashlann raises her head in question. Her father humors her and says, “While I still don’t think the Jedi are as invincible as people make them out to be,” he begins, sobering. Ashlann mutters, “They aren’t invincible,” but her father pointedly ignores her. He continues, “Your strength will never stop amazing me. I’m so proud of you.” The corners of his eyes crinkle up as he smiles fondly at his spitting image. Ashlann’s own joy is momentarily diminished when he finishes with, “You’ll make a great soldier,” but she shakes it off quickly.

“Yeah, you’re a great kid, Ash!” the louder friend shouts, ruining any moment the two family members might have been having. “Just don’t get too roped up into that Jedi mystic bullshit!”

If Ashlann had eyes, she would be tempted to roll them in exasperation at the moment.

Instead she opts to politely say, “May I be excused, father?” He waves a hand dismissively at her, already focused on swapping stories of battles with his friends again, so Ashlann makes herself scarce. As she enters her room, she replays the events of the day through her head; finding out that some Jedi were permitted to pursue relationships was a shocking revelation for her, making her doubt many of the previous teachings. Her conversation with her father had reaffirmed them, though, as she stood up proudly for her beliefs. She stills her disquieted mind, intent on sleeping for at least a few hours. She sends off a final prayer that the next day would be significantly dramatic (but equally as informative) as this one was, but she knows her chances of finding total peace decreases as time creeps onward. Change is inevitable. It always is.

When Ashlann found out that she would have a baby brother within the year, she was ecstatic; she thought wondrously about passing on all the lessons taught her as if she was a master herself. She wondered momentarily if her desires were vain, but resolved that she wouldn’t force her future sibling to partake in any unwanted lessons… a sibling! Weeks before the predicted date of birth, and she still marveled over the news as if she was just told. Her joy was apparent; many of the Jedi at the temple commented on her obvious excitement (some lightly chiding her impatience, which she took in stride), and even some of the soldiers her father worked with made sure to congratulate the soon-to-be big sister as well as the parents. The only person who was possibly more excited than Ashlann was her own father who, for his part, was finally receiving the son he had always wanted, though he promised Ashlann that she would always be his little girl. His warm words were surprisingly relaxing for the young woman; she hadn’t realized she was equally as anxious as she was anticipatory until he approached her about it. The anxiety her mother felt over the impending birth was considerably more grave than that of Ashlann; she worried about how she would make ends meet for another child on the sparse wages of an isolated farm and a soldier. Cornelius, ever the provider, swore that he would see to it that his family was taken care of. Just like his duty as a soldier, he refused to abandon the ones he cares for during such a time of great need.

“You’re a good man, Cornelius,” her mother had said to him, stroking his cheek affectionately. She hastily ran off after they began kissing, deciding her presence wasn’t required anymore. The fact that she was nearly a teenager and still unsure regarding her feelings over more intimate gestures made her face heat quickly. The tips of her ears burnt even after she left the house that day, but she composed herself once she was left with only her own thoughts. All of the affection going around in her family since the announcement of the new Magnimi arriving made Ashlann ponder what it would be like to start her own family one day. She worried about her duties as a soldier clashing with her duties to her family, but if her father could manage then she figured she could, too. Besides, the idea of being swept off her feet by a dashing, chivalrous, knightly figure piqued her interest, to say the least, though she would never admit it aloud. She didn’t wish to appear to be some sighing schoolgirl of sorts. She had to be dignified if she was going to make a good older sister, she half-joked to herself.

Eventually, she finally does become one. At the height of the warmest season, Andrias Magnimi is born, much to the entire family’s elation (for her mother’s part, it is because she is no longer pregnant). When he’s finally pushed free, he comes out quiet, unassuming. For a moment, they all hold their breath out of worry— what if he’s unwell? The Miraluka are an intelligent, but spiritually focused people; their access to advanced medical supplies is limited to what the Republic military has been generous enough to lend them. Thankfully, and as if he had sensed all the tension he was creating, Andrias begins to bellow loudly, lungs as strong as his father’s.

Cornelius reaffirms this when he joins in on the bellowing with, “Atta boy!” His wife can’t help but laugh even as tears stream down her sweaty face, and Ashlann joins in, too. The whole room is thick with emotion and warm feelings, and Ashlann never wants it to end.

And it doesn’t, not really. Even after the day has long passed, the entire first year Andrias is brought into the world is joyous and peaceful, as if he himself was a good omen. When Andrias begins to grow little tufts of blond hair, their mother squeals delightfully, clapping her hands together as if congratulating him. All the boy has to do is look cute, and she is pleased. Ashlann wonders if he will always be innocent like this, the biggest woe of his being spitting up on his shirt. She sees the absurdity in this, but he will always be her little brother no matter what.

But as her protectiveness for Andrias grows, the attention she gets from her father diminishes. When her mother voices concern, he insists that he hasn’t forgotten about his “favorite daughter.” Truthfully, Ashlann has no qualms with her father fawning over his new son. She understands that part of being an older sibling means making sacrifices. Knowing this, she feels prepared for the future.

However, nothing prepares her for the paralyzing news she receives during her regular visit to the temple.

“This war is getting fiercer,” a gruff voice says hotly. “The Empire is moving to ravage Outer Rim worlds. We need to—”

“This is exactly why we need protection here, at the temple and on this planet. We are too far from the Core Worlds to receive timely assistance if the Empire sets their sights on us.” Ashlann recognizes the second voice, much icier, as Master Amal.

“The Empire barely knows this planet exists, let alone its usefulness. We’re wasting troops here,” the first voice says, uncompromising with his reply.

“Can you not spare a small number?” Master Amal is almost pleading with the man.

“We’re leaving. Captain’s orders, that’s final.” Ashlann’s heart constricts painfully. Captain’s orders. Her father’s orders. Her father leaving her, abandoning her. Abandoning his wife, his newborn son.

She doesn’t know when she starts to move exactly. Something powerful surges within her, and she lets it bolster her, pushing her out of the golden chambers of the temple. A quiet voice in the back of her head questions if she is being too hasty, too passionate. It pleads softly for her to turn back and compose herself before doing anything rash. She ignores the voice; as her father has pointed out countless times, she will never be a Jedi. She is not bound by their code. Her family comes first, and her father threatens to bring the foundation they built down upon their heads.

The outside air is charged with energy. It makes it hard for her to connect to her surroundings; she swears the trees bow away from her as she moves closer, that the grass dissipates underneath her feet. She has heard of Miraluka blinded by their nightmares. She wonders if she is hallucinating, or if her anger is truly warping the scene around her. When she finally reaches the front door to her home, she bursts in without warning. She is determined to find answers, and when she recognizes the cool signature of the Captain contrasting with her own blazing one— and has she always held this much fury within her? Is this how other Force sensitives view her?— she begins to demand them.

“You’ve ordered your troops to pull out now? Are you insane?” she growls. Her mother, who she only just notices sitting nearby, startles at Ashlann’s tone. The child in her arms almost instantly begins to cry.

“Did you really have to do that to your brother, Ash?” her mother chides, clearly also upset with her daughter’s outburst. Ashlann feels a flash of guilt. She didn’t mean to get them involved, but they deserve to know— or at least, her mother. She hopes Andrias is still too young to remember this.

Cornelius interrupts the scene with a curt “yes” for a reply. Both women are momentarily shocked for their own reasons. The boy continues to mewl. Ashlann is the first to regain her wits.

“Why?” she says much quieter than intended, though with the way her mother flinches (again), she may as well have shouted.

“I’m saving lives,” he replies stoically. Ashlann, shrewd even in her haze, notes that his reply reveals next to nothing. She almost voices this, when her mother beats her to it.

“You told me the Empire was on the retreat… That the war would be over soon, and we could raise our family in peace.” The woman’s voice is delicate, completely at odds with the chill found within the Captain’s or the steel in her daughter’s. Cornelius shifts, for the first time during the interaction visibly uncomfortable.

“You lied. You lied to us both,” Ashlann nearly whispers this time.

“I did it to protect you,” her father protests, obviously losing control.

Realization dawns on Ashlann too late for it to bring her any comfort. This man and his lessons— he’s all about control.

“You did it for glory. All of it. Saving lives, making me into a perfect soldier, grandstanding in front of your squad members, making a point of how belittled you feel by the Jedi—”

“Enough!” he shouts, his face burning a fiery red.

“It’s never enough for you, is it, Captain?” she retorts derisively. Their confrontation is transformed into a screaming match between the father, the daughter, and the son. The mother is torn between her two loves and the weeping infant in her arms, fear seizing her completely.

“What do you want from me?” her father asks shaking with anger yet to be released. He obviously fights to keep his voice down.

“I—” Ashlann starts, but her voice breaks. She tries again. “We need you to stay. Mother needs help with Andrias. And Andrias needs a father, too.” As if in response to his name being called, the boy quiets, then begins to coo. The soft sound feels at odds with the jagged edges of their fracturing family. Ashlann hears a sob from her mother, but remains facing her father as she says, “I need a father, too.”

The room is nearly silent, barring the little noises the boy makes and a few sniffles the mother lets out. Ashlann hopes that her few words convey her entire meaning; she needs a mentor. Her father is a beacon for her, has taught her values no ancient Jedi tome ever could. Though they have their differences, she strives to reach the levels of strength that he has achieved.

So when he begins to grimace, she fears her words have failed her. Or that he simply no longer cares for them, if he ever did.

“You’ll never really be the child I wanted.”

The cruelty of his words knock the wind out of her, forcing her to sit down. She feels anchored to the chair. She is vaguely aware of her mother’s cries becoming louder, but in that moment, she is too weak to act, only reinforcing what her father said moments before. Her father passes by her a few times, though they exchange no glances, nor further words. At one point, she senses something in his grasp as he approaches her, and fears for her life briefly. But then he walks past her, out the door, shutting it as quietly as he left.

Later in her life, she will replay the events of the night over and over in her head, wondering where she went wrong. She will drown herself in her guilt. Later, she will be pulled to the surface and find reconciliation awaiting her. But as she sits motionless and shocked, she only dreads what comes next for them.

* * *

Without their main provider, the family struggles to make ends meet, and the absence of her love deflates Ashlann’s mother, shackling her to the bed, and occasionally the kitchen to eat wordlessly, as if she eats only out of obligation— a routine to be fulfilled every few hours before resigning herself back to the creaky bed. The transition from cared to caretaker is quiet, but not easy for Ashlann. They can no longer afford farmhands, or the expensive machinery they utilize. Ashlann is the one who lets the young men and women go, because Andrias isn’t old enough to speak and her mother refuses to. She still can’t help but feel for the wiry, dirt-stained teens she has to send home, who likely struggle to cope just as they do. Her heart is heavy as she sells the farm entirely, and it breaks when the new farmer informs her that they must move off of his property. Ashlann left her pride when she took on the family duties, but being evicted from the only home she ever knew leaves her reeling. When she tells her mother that they have to leave, she’s met with a brief, blank stare. Even for the smallest amount of time it lasts, the void Ashlann encounters in her mother’s eyes leaves her deeply shaken.

Then her mother finally snaps out of her haze, and speaks softly so that Ashlann must move closer in order to catch her words, “Ashlann, do you know what I want?”

“What?” Ashlann responds just as softly, noting her mother has yet to truly respond to the news of their eviction. Maybe she refuses to believe it.

Her mother leans forward, even closer now. Ashlann studies her subtly; there are dark circles underneath her eyelids and the typical lines of age are deeper and more defined than they used to be. The everlasting youthful joy that shone and danced in her warm amber eyes has resigned itself to defeat, just as its host has. It pains Ashlann greatly to see her mother like this, but she still admires her and loves her deeply.

“I just want you and your brother to be safe and happy.”

A beat passes void of any words. Her mother searches her eyes for a response when she realizes she won’t receive a verbal one. Ashlann hopes she hides her exhaustion from late hours of work and scars from unsafe conditions, but worries that she doesn’t do a good enough job of it when her mother’s shoulders sag in defeat. She starts to speak again, but Ashlann cuts her off with an embrace. She hugs her mother, strong arms wrapped around her frail frame squeezing tightly. She cannot bring herself to lie to her mother. She is not like him.

Instead, she replies, “I know. I’m working on it.”

Though her mother is capable of walking herself to their new home, and does so willingly (unlike her brother, who sleeps soundly in her arms), Ashlann feels the weight of carrying both the baby Andrias and her mother along the way. When she finally reaches her new bed, she collapses in an exhausted heap. Not long after, she hears sobbing begin through the (very thin) walls.

She wonders to herself if it is the baby or her mother.

* * *

Corellia is a proud planet, home to proud people. The bustling capital sizzles with energy, just as the dozens of factories do; the only thing Corellia is more famous for than its eco-friendly cities is its masterwork shipbuilders. Even though Corellia is an independent world, it is undoubtedly the prize of the Republic, second only Coruscant, the capital of the Galactic Republic.

That is, until its richest landowners hand the entire planet over to the Sith Empire. Then, all hell breaks loose.

This is where Captain Cornelius Magnimi and his fierce squadron move to: the heart of the war, the Battle of Corellia. In the midst of the bloody war, the captain finds solace with a widow who lost her husband to the Sith who invaded. She helps him forget. The captain finally gets the son he wanted; Jo’than Magnimi is the spitting image of his father. Curly, dark brown hair sprouts from his head and doesn’t seem to stop growing for a second as the months pass. Even at such a young age, its apparent to all that he will grow up to be a strong soldier, just like his father.

Just like his sister.

This time, when the captain and his troops are ordered to fall back to Coruscant, he takes his son with him leaving the despondent mother alone once again.

When the peace treaty is signed, no one serving within the military is happy about it; the Sith barge into their capital, killing good men and women, yet continue to control the Republic without much consequence. The bureaucrats say it is a necessary accord, buying them precious time to rebuild. To those that fought loyally underneath the banner of the Republic, it feels like a slap to the face. While the Empire and Republic are no longer officially at war, both sides continue to clash at the expense of many lives, who are no longer protected by the full support of their respective militaries. Some Republic soldiers are shipped off to Balmorra to aid the rebels revolting against the Imperial occupation; it is a thinly veiled attack against the Empire. Meanwhile, there are whispers of a shadowy secret police force being revived within the Empire— if the Sith cannot wage their villainous war openly, they will work to slit the throats of their enemies in secret.

Despite his frustration with the politicians and their games, Cornelius counts himself lucky to be stationed on Coruscant even after it is sacked. He could have been relocated to the barren tundra that is Hoth, or forced to endure the sweltering heat of Tatooine. Instead, he helps rebuild the broken infrastructure scattered across the city where the Sith rampaged away. It gives him time to raise his son properly this time. This time, he will get it right.

He will have his perfect soldier.

* * *

The Jedi frown upon misuse of the Force. For the Sith, it is a tool used to serve the user, but the Order sees things differently. Ashlann feels inclined to agree with them; the Force is a connection interwoven between all living things. To abuse this connection is to abuse all those connected to it.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, and she is not yet bound by the bylaws of the Jedi Order. When her employer starts asking why she is late, or catches her falling asleep on the job and begins scolding her, she uses her abilities to… persuade him to act leniently. Taking on multiple jobs simultaneously is exhausting and time consuming, but she cannot afford to lose any of them being the only steady source of income found in the family. Her mother has recovered greatly since her husband walked out on his family fifteen years prior. She finds time to help around the house when she is feeling up to it, but continues to lean heavily on her daughter for support. So, in turn, Ashlann leans heavily on her Force abilities, becoming incredibly proficient through practice. Andrias, now an adolescent, also shows aptitude in the Force, and trains with some of the padawans at the temple occasionally. Ashlann feels a twinge of bitterness over the fact that she is always too busy to truly spend time with the family she works so hard to care for. She aches for family dinners where everyone is present, and training sessions between siblings with their mother cheering them both on. She yearns to teach her brother about the fascinating history found within the captivating halls of their local temple. Most of all, she dreams of a day where her mother’s eyes do not seem to contain an all-consuming void. She cares for Andrias, but he is unfaltering in his youth, almost stubborn; his story is just beginning, and he will have plenty of time to right all the wrongs in his life. Their mother does not have that luxury. So, Ashlann continues to take more responsibilities— inside and outside of the house— so that they don’t have to.

On her way home, she begins her daily training regime (that she created herself). First, it always starts with a few pebbles being levitated off the ground— easy enough. Then, she moves to slightly larger objects, like large fallen branches. At first, it was a minor challenge to balance the limbs that would often tip one way or another, but she mastered it quickly. Even the large boulders she lifts when she’s nearing her home barely vexx her. Once, she tossed one over the side of a hill carelessly, not thinking twice about who or what could have been damaged. She stopped tossing the rocks around so dangerously, opting to gently bring them down just as she did up. She reasoned that it was good practice, anyway. Not that she needed it, evidently. She misses her visits to the temple sorely. From what Andrias has told her, they miss her, too.

When she walks into their tiny home, she almost instantly feels her brother’s fiery presence behind her. She turns from the door after closing it quietly (so as to not disturb their mother), facing Andrias patiently. She knows that whatever is plaguing his mind he will not hesitate to share with her; she greatly appreciates his openness when everything else in her life is so difficult to navigate.

“There’s a war going on, Ash,” he begins ominously.

“They signed the Treaty of Coruscant recently, so technically—” she mutters before being interrupted by her brother.

“Come on, Ash! You and I both know that treaty hasn’t stopped good men and women from dying!” She did know what he meant, she simply wanted to have buried the hatchet sixteen years in the past.

“We have to take care of mom. And besides, you’re only sixteen,” she reasons, though she knows her final argument is weak. Her brother’s responding silence merely confirms this.

Then he finally says, “How many more mothers will die before you take up arms for them, sister? How many more young boys and girls will have to grow up too fast before we do something about it?” Ashlann inhales sharply, caught off guard by her brother’s piercing words. She wonders when he became so war-weary. “We cannot simply wait and watch while the Empire burns everything around us to ash.”

“Do you plan on enlisting?” she asks, her heart suddenly caught in her throat.

“I don’t know,” he replies honestly, sounding genuinely conflicted. “Given our rocky family history with the Republic military…” he hesitates for the first time in his tirade. “I just don’t know. All I know is that this,” he gestures around vaguely, so Ashlann makes the assumption that he is referring to the war. “This isn’t over, and we all have a part to play in it. You and I included.” Some of his golden blond hair falls into his face as he tilts forward towards her, as if telling some great secret. Ashlann raises an eyebrow, considering the idea.

She is in the middle of her twenties, and has yet to join the Order as she once hoped. She doubts she has a great destiny to fulfill as her brother is prophesying intensely, but she cannot speak for him.

When the conversation shifts to topics more academic in their nature— such as Jedi (and some Sith) philosophy, or theories regarding the Force— the siblings match each other for the next hour as Ashlann prepares dinner.

“So what you’re saying is that potentially we could train anyone to become a Jedi so as long as they hold a connection to the Force— which is essentially everyone,” Andrias questions as he sits down to eat.

Ashlann is fixing herself a bowl as she replies, “The technical answer is yes. In reality, trying to teach someone who isn’t truly ‘Force sensitive’ to use the Force would be like trying to teach a human to see like us Miraluka; it’s an entirely new way of perceiving the world around oneself, and thus is incredibly hard to learn after being used to something else.” It’s actually exactly like this, as Miraluka literally see with the Force, but she knows the analogy is helpful for her brother who is also a Miraluka.

Andrias seems to ignore most of her response and says hotly, “Then why aren’t we building an army of Jedi to hold off the Empire?” Her brother is intelligent, and yet at the same time is not, she marvels; Ashlann summons her patience. Her mother is not as reserved with her exasperation. She groans (good naturedly) at her bickering children.

“Will you two quiet trying to solve the galaxy’s greatest issues and just sit down and eat?” She smiles at them both to indicate her jest. Ashlann smiles back, happy to see her mother relaxing. Andrias, on the other hand, frowns, but his sourness is gone just as quickly as it comes. It unsettles Ashlann for a moment, but she puts it aside; if something is bothering her brother, he typically voices it (rather passionately).

“I’m glad we could all eat together like this,” Ashlann says softly as she sits.

“So am I, dear,” her mother says, reaching across the table to clasp her hand. A devilish look crosses her mother’s face, but both children react too late to avoid the inevitable.

“It means I can ask about any nice boys or girls you two might have met recently!”

“Mother, I’m 26,” Ashlann begins to protest. She loves her mother dearly, and would move mountains for her, but she will not have her love life (or lack thereof) interrogated, not as an adult.

“Okay,” her mother cuts her off. “So, have you met any nice men then?” Andrias snorts. They both know she walked right into that one.

She decides, ever the optimist, that now is a good time to practice her meditation techniques. She imagines herself far, far away from here in this very moment. The heat building on her face makes it difficult to do so, though. Her brother’s teasing quips underneath his breath about how she “seems more interested in her ancient books than any real partner” don’t help either, though she does crack a smile, despite herself.

The playful air hanging among the family is dispelled as a knock comes on their door, terse, but impossible to ignore; they don’t typically have visitors, so everyone assumes whoever is at their door must be important.

Ashlann is the first to rise, and when Andrias moves to follow, she puts her hand on his shoulder— not pushing, just giving a silent suggestion for him to stay put. When she opens the door, she is surprised to find Master Amal standing there. Her strict demeanor feels out of place with the previous mirth permeating the room.

“Master Amal, it’s always a pleasure,” she says.

“Oh! Is that really Master Amal?” her mother says excitedly. Ashlann moves over a bit so that she may see for herself. “Come in, Master Jedi! We were just discussing Jedi philosophies!” Ashlann blushes furiously again; that’s not exactly what they were just talking about. She knows that if her brother wasn’t so intimidated by the Jedi, he’d be having a field day.

“What can we do for you, Master Amal?” Ashlann asks respectfully, pulling out a chair for the older woman. She sits down and thanks Ashlann quietly.

“I have… The Order has a proposal for you. Both of you,” she says eyeing both siblings. Everyone in the room holds their breath, waiting for the Jedi to make her offer. “A place among the Order as padawans,” she says, and then quickly adds, “You would be given food, housing, and any other basic utilities, of course.” The room remains silent for a long time as they all collectively mull over this sudden offer. Ashlann cycles through her initial excitement, then concern, and finally settles on curiosity; she knows she should find out more before coming to any hasty conclusions. But someone else beats her to it.

“Where would they train?” her mother speaks, surprising everyone. Her expression is that of resignation.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the Jedi says softly.

“Please?” her mother pleads. I just need to know where my babies are… Where they’re going!”

Amal gives her a despondent look and says, “If you seek them out, you will be turned away.”

“We haven’t said yes to anything yet,” Andrias points out, although Ashlann knows his mind is already made up. He simply wishes to comfort their mother. Master Amal raises her eyebrows as if she came to the same conclusion as Ashlann, and is wondering why Andrias bothers with the confrontational attitude.

“I just want to know that my children are being cared for. You know how much I love them,” her mother says emphatically.

Master Amal looks at her and nods solemnly. She says sincerely, “They will be safe.”

Their mother sniffs, emotion making it harder to breathe steadily. She seems to take a moment to consider the offer in depth.

Ashlann, for her part, is trying to sort through her own emotions. This is her life’s dream being offered up to her on a silver platter— she suspects it is her brother’s dream as well, if their discussions on the war and recent visits to the temple are any indication. But when she looks at her mother, who tries to hide her despair to no avail, her heart clenches painfully for the woman; how could she abandon her?

She will not be like him.

“May we have more time to consider your offer, Master?” she requests with as much sincere reverence as she can inject into her tone.

“Of course, Ashlann. I will return at the end of the week.” As Master Amal rises to take her leave, Ashlann wonders if she should offer her a drink, but quickly thinks twice at the sight of her defeated mother. She leads the woman out, reciting a quiet goodbye, then moves back to her mother’s side.

“Are you going to be alright?” she whispers. Andrias watches the spectacle worriedly, but chooses not to interject.

They sit in silence for what feels like forever. Ashlann waits patiently for her mother’s response, or any reaction at all, but her brother cannot help but fidget in anticipation. She jokes to herself that Andrias would have much more training to do as a padawan than the simple swordplay he is currently infatuated with. Finally, her mother breaks the unbearable silence.

“I think you should go.” She looks up toward the surprised faces of her children. “Both of you.”

The room falls back into the previous silence, this time a consequence of the siblings’ shared shock.

“No,” Ashlann says with finality.

“I thought you wanted this.” her mother replies in a much quieter tone.

“We won’t abandon you,” she says, resolved, neither confirming nor denying what she wants. Her mother seems humbled for a moment, her features softening.

“When did you become so mature?”

“Mom…” Ashlann begins, but fails to find the proper words she seeks. Her mother stops her with a raised hand, regardless.

“If you don’t want to go, then I can’t make you,” she begins, voice stronger than before. “But you and your brother are… amazing.” She gasps out “amazing” as if momentarily awestricken. “You’re both destined to do great things, I just know it. Don’t let me hold you back from greatness.”

“You aren’t holding us back,” Andrias cuts in sharply, as if the very idea of being held back offends him.

Their mother smiles sadly and says, “No? Think about where you’d be in life, Andrias, if not here with me.” Andrias removes himself from the conversation yet again with a telling silence. Ashlann’s mother turns toward her to address her again .

“I know what you’re thinking, Ashlann.”

Ashlann frowns; she was still sifting through her conflicting emotions herself. How could she know what she was thinking?

Her mother’s unexpected words that proceed knock the wind out of her.

“You are nothing like him.”

Ashlann starts, her world narrowing, focused acutely on her mother and what she will say next. She doesn’t realize her hands are shaking slightly until her mother clasps them within her own.

“You are kind, and wise, and selfless, and strong— truly strong. The kind of strength that is used to help others, not hurt them. I don’t think your father really understood how to control his strength,” her eyes turn misty. Despite all the pain Ashlann’s father has caused, her mother still clearly loves him; she recognizes the fault in his actions, but apologizes for them instead of condemning them. “Everything in his grip, he crushed,” she says, letting out a sigh as she finishes.

After a moment, Ashlann whispers, “But you need me.”

Her mother smiles, touched, and says, “I need you to be the best woman you can be.” She squeezes her daughter’s hands tightly. It makes Ashlann feel safe, but she doesn’t quite know why.

She continues, louder this time so that Andrias can hear, “You two have a galaxy to save!” Andrias beams, taking his mother’s words as confirmation that they will be joining the Jedi, but Ashlann’s concern does not dissipate

“May I still have the week to consider?” is all she says to indicate her internal conflict.

“Of course, dear,” her mother responds sweetly. Ashlann rises, muttering a quiet excuse (she will later scold herself for being impolite), and shuts herself off in her room. She doesn’t wish to make her own troubles her mother’s as well, or her brother’s, either.

She continues to go back and forth between the issue throughout the week, until Master Amal returns. By then, she has finally come to terms with her decision as best as possible under such short notice.

Andrias stands outside the house with Master Amal chattering away excitedly about the future. He holds a small bag carrying some essentials, though Ashlann cannot imagine what her brother would have packed that the Order wouldn’t be able to provide. When she steps outside, she brings nothing but the clothes on her back. Their mother follows close behind. She hugs Andrias first, very tightly.

“You’re crushing my ribs, Mom,” he groans.

She just seems to squeeze him harder and say, “Can’t I hug my baby boy goodbye?”

“You’ll see me again, surely!” he protests half-heartedly, but hugs her back just as tightly. They whisper something quietly to each other, and then pull away. Ashlann steps forward, hesitant at first, but more confidently when her mother stretches out her arms invitingly.

“My daughter… a grown woman,” she says a little shocked as she hugs her.

Then, “I love you, Aslann.”

“I love you too, Mom,” she replies, her voice muffled as she buries her face into her mother’s shoulder as if trying to get even closer. She wants the memory of her mother permanently imprinted into her skin. She doesn’t want to lose her.

“I’ll always be with you,” she says finally, emotion making it too difficult to continue speaking. Her mother lets out a sob, obviously in a similar situation as her. It feels as if they stay like that for eternity, holding each other, refusing to let go. Eventually, Ashlann does pull away, sensing Andrias’ impatience through the Force.

“Ready to go?” Master Amal asks. It surprises Ashlann for a second; she almost forgot the Jedi was there.

“Yes, we are,” she responds. The siblings begin walking beside the Jedi.

They hear their mother call out to them one last time.

“Make me proud, you two!”

“We will!” the two siblings cry out together, continuing to walk with Master Amal to the temple where their shuttle is docked.

“I swear it,” Ashlann says to herself. She means it.

* * *

Tython is teeming with the Force, notably the light side. Ashlann recognizes it as a perfect training ground for any aspiring Jedi; rich with just as much ancient history and unexplored mysteries as it is with wildlife— inviting or otherwise —the planet has a plethora of lessons to be taught to the enchanted padawans. Ashlann feels herself pulled out of the numbness she felt on the ship travelling to the marshy planet; the thought of walking the same path as the first “Je’daii” fascinates her, and the serene flow of the Force on this planet puts her at ease.

When they land, Master Amal directs Ashlann towards a new group of Jedi— clearly Masters, judging by their age (and the steady way in which they carry themselves, like beacons of light on a stormy night). Amal guides Andrias away to a new part of the temple, presumably to meet his own Master. She feels her own excitement only grow as she approaches the two Jedi; she wonders which one will be her future mentor.

As she draws closer to the two Jedi— who she realizes are caught in a minor argument —she hears the woman say vigorously, “...stronger in the Force at four years old than I was at fifteen. Gifted students need greater challenges.”

The man shakes his head worriedly and replies, “No, Yuon. We cannot risk a padawan against the Flesh Raiders, even for such important artifacts.”

Ashlann waits patiently to be addressed. The woman notices her presence first.

“Perhaps we should ask her before making any decisions,” she says with a hint of sarcasm laced in her voice, raising an eyebrow.

“Hello, Ashlann,” the man says brightly as he turns to her. “It’s very good to finally meet you.”

“Yes, you may not know it, but you’ve caused quite a stir around the temple,” the one presumably named Yuon says. The brazenness of the Jedi is jarring for Ashlann, but not unwelcome. She finds it quite entertaining.

“Yuon!” the man lightly chides. Yuon just smirks, the lines surrounding her mouth and eyes temporarily deepening.

“Is something wrong, Master?” Ashlann asks. Why would her arrival cause issues when she hasn’t even formally begun her training as a padawan yet?

“You could say that,” Yuon says flippantly.

“Yuon!” the man says, more commanding this time.

Yuon simply chuckles and says, “Nothing about you, though. We’re all excited to have you here, Ashlann, truly.”

“You probably know by now that this is Master Yuon,” he gestures towards the other Jedi. “However, you may be wondering who I am,” he says, addressing Ashlann.”My name is Master Syo Bakarn.”

Ashlann balks. The Syo Bakarn. “The councilmember?” she asks. He nods solemnly. Ashlann can’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. “Wait,” she catches herself. “You can’t be here to simply greet one padawan.”

“No?” he seems genuinely perplexed by her conclusion.

“As honored as I am, something bigger is at work, isn’t it, Master? If so, I’d like to be of assistance,” she says sincerely, already prepared to get to work.

“I told you she’d be an excellent fit,” Yuon says to Syo.

“I never had any doubts,” he responds easily.

“Oh, but before we begin briefing you, Ashlann…”

“Welcome to Tython!”

**Author's Note:**

> I sure did love my horizontal lines here.


End file.
